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poetry
Satish Verma, 5 june 2021
Scissor Hold
I don't want any applause.
Think. think on
what I have to say.
The morgue is full. Still
the bodies were arriving, of
all the dead innocents.
The son, daughter, mother and
father and grands.
What rituals you want to do―
to honour the departed, or
praise the killers?
The rigged notes on paper speak of mendacity.
Between the primates, man
was becoming the beast.
The stone, sculptor and ghost are one.
Satish Verma, 4 june 2021
After The Stampede
The dusk panics.
Molten ash stings, bearing
you down. Your enemy had penetrated
very deep.
Your pride shrinks.
Infinite pains from moonlit streets
climb up the palm trees
to count the dead.
You can not arbitrate in disputes
of wind and flags.
The night rolls down on the
battered past. Your face becomes
a broken clock.
Color-blind, you will never―
know the green recital
of the spokesman.
RENATA, 3 june 2021
wpuszczona w kanał
podpisała cyrograf dla wyjętego z serca
wolność trwała 25sek
zaczęła nowe z kawalerem
słodyczy miód wylewał się z ust
gruszki na wierzbie rosły
z apetytem nadziewał ją na ruszt
sielanka
potem ślub
łup łup łup
cwaniaczek bo się rozpłaczę
tylko że on chce
dziecko dziecko dziecko
rys jest wiele
największa z portfelem
więc aniele
moje twoje dzielmy mnóżmy
i na stół wyłóżmy
także obiad ten niedzielny
wniebowzięta gotowała
to koszty straty i zyski
do podziału miała
a jak nie to synalek do mamy
a żona do kąta
zamknięta w śmierdzącej celi
czy można ją wyleczyć
bo ona mimo jego wyzywania
wciąż jest na etapie zakochania
Satish Verma, 3 june 2021
Una Corda
This was not physical.
Which part of your psyche,
I would touch?
Sometimes you swing
without a rope. A chasm
appears, then vanishes.
Blindfolded you open
a death door to see the fall.
The deep pain bifurcates.
The distance was increasing
between clouds. A crack
of light burns the dark. Animals
awake.
You remember a yawn
of cosmos. Someone becomes a fever,
high as sun, in earthen heart.
Satish Verma, 2 june 2021
Eyesores
A wreath of skulls
you want to hang on the wall.
I don't want to
lose the skin.
The land was bleeding.
Mars mission. A very
lonely flight, pulls me down.
Do you have a
pearl knife?
Small talisman, you used to wear
when you were a child
to ward off the evil spirits.
A buttonless chest. The map
you drew on the torso was tense.
The woods were nowhere. Only
the dry sands.
I wanted to make a slit in the stone,
to release the holy water,
but it was only tears―
Satish Verma, 1 june 2021
Rumblings
You hide behind the words.
It was my priviledge
to start the fire.
Looking at the bare moon
in black sky,
you open the blue veins―
to explore the anatomy of
pain. Sometimes you want
to suffer in the hands of impossible.
Life wants its share of death,
when you were playing autumn,
frightening the lantern.
A nameless breeze offers
the whiff of a musk deer,
that lost the tree for scent-marking.
Satish Verma, 31 may 2021
Voices In Dark
I should not have been
there, where I am now.
The destiny was unscrupulously quiet.
Time goes in suspension
when I don't see you in me.
Flaunting the assets
of dwarf generation, you
kill the galaxy of stars brazenly.
Paraplegia. You break
the eggs in air to touch the placentae.
Twirled. I ask
the question, when your lips
will drown in stoned Buddha?
Out of reach, the honeybees
fly towards the virgin trees.
Satish Verma, 30 may 2021
What One Knows
Catching a glimpse
of moon―
in velvety October.
*
You collect a beetle
fossil. Then
man was learning to walk.
*
Same faces
in newspaper daily,
wearing me out.
*
Self-adoration
rocks the earth.
Journey to sleep begins.
Satish Verma, 29 may 2021
A Dream Turns Into Desperation
Half acting you take
the broom for the journey
of doom.
In human odor, you find
a secret sin. In stampede
you may walk on the fallen bodies.
Between me and my, you
stand squeezing the lines
in holy script. There was no dogma.
Your image overwhelms
the prayers, insulting the
future of man.
Like amber encased,
parasitism, comes alive
with mass execution.
RENATA, 28 may 2021
Idealni
Piękni i bez skazy
te zdjęcia na instagramie
opowiadają sielankę
jaka to rodzina szczęśliwa
a garze bigos z kaszanką
ona zdała se sprawę pewnego ranka
że to pozory
on kogoś ma
on bez kochanki jest chory
ona ta żona piękna jak aktorka
markowo obleczona
zrozumieć nie potrafi
że ten cud miód złoty mąż
w łóżku leży jak kłoda
nieczuły i udaje pracoholika
gdy tymczasem
pojawia się i znika jakby tylko
chciał zmienić garnitur
kiepskie relacje
chociaż złoto z kont kapie
i po tych wszystkich
śniadaniach i obiadach
rodzina się rozpada
a przecież wokół
motyli trzepot
z każdym dniem
zmierza ku zagładzie
Latest comments:
14 october 2024
violetta
Jakiś duszek się zaplątał:)
14 october 2024
Eva T.
A tak. :)
14 october 2024
:)
14 october 2024
Blado liliowe - piekne. Bardzo lubie. :)
14 october 2024
W duzej donicy tez nie?
14 october 2024
Przypadkowo spotkane :)
14 october 2024
jeśli tylko
każdym okiem można inaczej..
14 october 2024
pięknie :)
14 october 2024
os kropki do pointylizmu..
13 october 2024
tak się zawsze mówiło :)
13 october 2024
artystowski..
13 october 2024
tak, to jest ten konkret (jeden widz) którego
14 october 2024
wiesiek
14 october 2024
Eva T.
13 october 2024
Satish Verma
12 october 2024
Satish Verma
11 october 2024
Satish Verma
10 october 2024
wiesiek
10 october 2024
Jaga
10 october 2024
Eva T.
10 october 2024
Satish Verma
9 october 2024
Satish Verma